


Lasan: The Clone Wars

by commanderpyre



Series: LASAN [1]
Category: Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game), Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Backstory, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Clone Wars, Coruscant (Star Wars), F/M, Forbidden Love, Half Human Jaro, Lasan (Star Wars), M/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:00:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23073604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commanderpyre/pseuds/commanderpyre
Summary: Jedi Master Jaro Tapal and his Padawan, Cal Kestis, visit Lasan during The Clone Wars. The planet is peaceful in it's neutrality, until it isn't, and their secret alliance with the Republic is uncovered. A young Garazeb Orrelios joins the Honor Guard. He must prove himself as the turmoil of war is brought too close to home.
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios, Cal Kestis & Jaro Tapal, Jaro Tapal/Original Character(s)
Series: LASAN [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658287
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic series is primarily about the Lasat and the events on Lasan since we don't have much canon on them. A prequel for Rebels & Jedi Fallen Order, focusing on Jaro, Zeb, Cal and later, Kallus and Kalluzeb. The others are all side characters. Rating will increase as it's updated.
> 
> Special thanks to those on twitter who helped me out with various things and inspired me to Not ditch this colossal fic! :)

“Look! Look, Master Tapal!” Distant voices echoed. He drew closer, but did not answer. Youthful laughter fluttered about the air like a fynock under a jungle canopy. Such vibrant sounds had not filled his senses in a long while; to hear them again humbled him to silence.

In the Core, life was different. The Galaxy was at its own throat; many worlds and lives had been destroyed in the wake of The Clone Wars. There was no time or place for a child to simply be. With the Jedi at the helm of the Republic’s forces against the Separatist droid army, innocence and ignorance were scarce. Jaro Tapal had fought from the very beginning; first as a Jedi Knight, now as a Master and General. Prolonged war brought with it a mental exhaustion comparable to none, and Jaro had almost forgotten the bliss of calmer times.

The Lasat kits in the distance played idly; happiness easily apparent. They reminded Jaro of himself at their age, and reminded him of what really mattered. His people here, his home-world. _All should have this life,_ Jaro believed. Or at least the opportunity for it. But only Galactic peace could offer such luxury. Many innocents in the Galaxy were as helpless as these kits, incapable of fighting and protecting themselves. _This is why the War must be fought until its end. No matter the cost._

“Master, hurry!” This time the voice was familiar. Jaro’s expressive ears twitched in surprise.

Turning the corner he reached the atrium at the center of the Palace.

A red tree stretched toward balconies of the upper floors. Plants weaved around its trunk and over the marble walls. Clinging to fragile vines was a human boy. He was high beyond the third level. A crowd of kits excitedly watched from below. They squealed and clapped, encouraging him.

At the sight Jaro sucked in a deep breath. He calmed himself, withheld from letting out a string of Lasat curses. “Cal. Get down!”

Cal met Jaro’s serious gaze, noticed how his ears were raised in alarm. They’d prick up and twitch a little whenever he was panicked. Cal had learned to read his Master’s ears surprisingly fast, despite this sort of communication being entirely alien to humans.

Immediately the boy made his way down. His laughter dissipated.

A few kits bounced over to Jaro, diving at his feet.

“Isn’t he an _amazing_ climber?!” One exclaimed.

“For a _human._ ” Said another.

They sat eagerly awaiting his opinion and Jaro’s seriousness all but faded at the sight of them. He decided to play along, raising a brow questionably. “He is muchbetter than before our stay… How is that so, hm?”

Eyes wide and bright, they glanced at each other before bursting into a fit of giggles and turning to see Cal.

Cal did not come running over. Instead he sat on a stone bench at the base of the tree, gazing up to red leaves tainted pink by generous sunlight. Jaro sensed something troubling him. There was a tenseness to his aura.

After dismissing the kits, shooing them toward the gardens to play, Jaro approached his Padawan.

“Cal.” He placed a comforting paw on his shoulder. And this time, Jaro’s tone was soft. “You may practice climbing whilst we are here, but never up the Palace walls. If the Guards were to have seen-”

“But why? The others are allowed-”

Jaro sighed, cutting him off. “You are not a Lasat. You may climb as swiftly, but the ground is too hard to cushion your fall… If you were to lose your footing.”

Cal paused. Realization washed over him and his stance grew stiff. His mouth was agape as he lowered his eyes to Jaro’s large feet; they were as strong and dexterous as hands, and flexible. Cal’s own were still very small, encased in a brown boot… Perhaps, his Master was right… They were not so ideal.

“No. Climbing. Inside… _Understood?_ ”

When Cal finally responded, his voice was a whisper. “Understood.”

“I know you are disappointed. Do not be. Little time has passed, yet you’ve come far... Further than even Rai at her age.”

There was a shift in Cal’s expression at the mention of her name. Rai Ondarra was a Lasat, Jaro’s previous Padawan. She’d taken longer to become a full Jedi Knight, and it’d kept Cal from being chosen as Jaro’s apprentice. Caleb Dume and Cal’s other friends were chosen by others before him. And he had waited patiently in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, alone. Despite this, Cal idolized Rai, as any Padawan would. Cal strove to follow the same path she had; currently, he was striding along it.

As Jaro knelt down to meet Cal’s short height, he saw the new focus brewing in his eyes.

He was a good Padawan, a fast learner in most regards, and always listened intently; even if the information didn’t always register in his mind the first time. He had an eagerness to learn and was surprisingly wise beyond his years; perhaps due to his unique power… But it was moments like this that Jaro wished he did not have to be strict. That he could let the boy be a boy. Though this was not the way of the Jedi, not how he had been with Rai. Cal was born to wield the Galaxy’s whill with abilities that left any who witnessed staring in awe. When honed, a Jedi’s skills had the power to bring light to those cast into unfortunate darkness. All Jaro could do was have faith that when Cal was older, he would understand why he had been thrown into this life. That he would know how much hope someone like him brought to the hopeless.

“This Palace is their home. One day your friends here shall become the Kings and Queens and Dukes of this land. Just as you have your own future.” With a steady hand he offered Cal his own lightsaber. Jaro’s differed from most Jedi’s, opting for a double-bladed saber instead of a single. “I would have you practice with mine today.”

Cal’s mind wandered curiously, as it often did. He traced the lightsaber’s hilt as it spoke to him, feeling the coldness of it against his warm hands, feeling the memories it held flow through him like a gust of wind in a storms wrath.

He ignited it then. Soft blue light emitted from each end as it gave a low hum. Cal felt the red hairs that littered his freckled skin stand on end. He gave it a slow spin, and smiled delightedly up at Jaro.

The thing was too big for him. Too heavy for him to hold without the Force’s aid. This would make him stronger though. Jaro knew there may come a day when he’d need skills to wield weapons of all sorts; especially if the kid kept up his habit of dropping and miss-placing his own.

As Jaro rose to his full height, searched out the exit, he and Cal were met by two Clone Troopers.

One wore the yellow and white armor, as did all Jaro’s Troopers, though his hair was dyed a deep purple.

“Hey kid!” Jam greeted Cal with a high five and a mischievous grin. He acknowledged Jaro, nodding firmly. “I’ll take you back to the ship for while, then we can go see the Guardsmen. Did you say goodbye?” 

The two wandered off and Jaro turned his attention to the other; Clone Trooper Commander Quasar, of the 13th Battalion.

His armor differed slightly. There was not so much yellow, only a single band of it around the left forearm. The rest of his armor; shoulder plates, shins, were all an ash grey. The same shade as the Lasan Honor Guard’s armor. The commander had thought it a formal way to represent his closeness and loyalty to Master Tapal. And as a personal addition, purple and grey stripes meant to mimic a Lasat’s decorated his torso and parts of the helmet. It was a striking and distinctive look, and it suited Quasar’s austere temperament.

“It’s time, sir.”

There was a pause of a few seconds.

“Quasar?” Jaro addressed.

Quasar was familiar with the expression Jaro held; one of sincere gratitude. There was no need for him to voice his thoughts, but as they walked, he spoke anyway. “Your company… It’s appreciated. I would not be alone for this.”


	2. A Delicate Peace

Ornate fountains were carved into stone walls, their delicate trickling was all that filled an otherwise silent courtyard. The water stemmed from gushing rivers up in the mountain range that lay beyond the Capital City; and in its freshness it was crystalline, translucent. Crisp like diamonds, droplets shimmered under Lasan’s mid-morning suns, splashing into bases of intricate mosaics. In every detail of the Palace, there was elegance. There was depth and meaning to every decorative choice. None of it was a mere obnoxious flaunting of wealth; it was simply preservation of Lasat culture, history, art.

Accompanied by Commander Quasar, Master Jaro Tapal stood tall in the centre of the courtyard.

He hadn’t returned to his home-world in four years, yet the quiet of the Royal wing of the Palace was just as he’d remembered. For Jaro, there was no tranquility that matched it. Not the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, not even somewhere as strong in the Force as Ilum. Today though, the serenity of it did nothing to calm his nerves. Nothing much had the power to calm him once his mood was shifted, as his Clone Troopers would often remind everyone in jest; Jaro was not known for his patience. He waited eagerly. His hands were slightly clammy, clasped tight behind his back. His muscles and jaw were tensed. To those who knew him, Jaro’s apprehension was obvious.

“Master Tapal? Everything alright?” Quasar asked through his helmet.

Jaro’s ears flattened.

The Commander had been by his side so long it was as if he was Force sensitive sometimes, he was able to read Jaro effortlessly. Ever since the incident in which Quasar had earned his nickname, the two had become as close as was professional. Not close enough or long enough that he knew about _her,_ though. Quasar’s question was genuine, he cared, but Jaro did not have the time to give the lengthy truthful answer.

“Yes. Just, in my thoughts.” Jaro inhaled deeply, gazed up. “This place is dear to me.”

“I see, Sir.”

A stone door opposing them was heaved open from the inside. Wild red ivy curved around it, stretching to balconies and windows above. And in the mild weather of Lasan’s dust season, indigo flora blossomed. The rich colours complemented those of the Queen’s gown and jeweled headdress. She entered the Courtyard graciously, striding between towering ivory pillars. In all her splendor, she was breathtaking. Shadowing her were two members of the High Honor Guard, Lasan’s military force that served the Royals as escorts. Jaro recognised one; the current Captain herself, Iva Marsios.

From the back of the crowd a familiar figure emerged. Senator Akachia. She wore decorative pins in her hair. A garment of silk and lace was a perfect fit for her petite frame. Embroidered flora trailed up the dress’ high collar, hiding her neck from view. It was not as bold and regal as the Queen’s, it was understated.

For the first time in four years, their eyes met.

Akachia’s expression held no bitterness, only warmth. Jaro’s fine purple fur spiked up beneath his robes. It was as if he had been numb, entirely unable to feel before this very second; because now so many memories and emotions rushed through him like the violent waves of Kamino. And he was drowning in them.

Akachia’s portrait had been engraved into Jaro’s mind, he thought of her often. Now, he realized how dated the image was. How it had faded over time. _Had she changed so much, or had he?_ Jaro remained motionless, stunned to silence.He had forgotten… _How had he let himself forget?_ The way her hazel eyes glittered, complimenting lilac fur. The way her black hair fell long and straight like a waterfall of night cascading down her back. Her beauty was unique, unparalleled. Like himself, Akachia was only part Lasat; and her Cathar features suited her better than Jaro’s human features suited him.

In their shared glance, was a truth. One that was now undeniable, that both had pushed aside and ignored. They still cared for each other.

Jaro loathed to admit it, because he knew neither of them regretted the past or how things had ended. It had been for the best. But these feelings where so overwhelming there was no escape from forbidden thoughts that accompanied them. No amount of warm gazes could return their relationship to the way it used to be. To the way they wished it could be. Jaro had missed Akachia perhaps more than he’d ever missed Lasan. But he was a Jedi Master, sworn off close relations, and she was a Senator, meant for greater things and was more deserving of open love than of something… Wrong. Limited.

Jaro and Akachia’s wordless acknowledgement of each other was fleeting. They hadn’t the time or privacy for it to be anything else.

Queen Giezallahnavei greeted Jaro with the Lasat’s traditional bow of respect.

Returning the gesture, Jaro recalled their arrival here. _‘How do I even say that!’_ Calhad exclaimed when Jaro told him her full name, explaining vaguely how Lasat pronunciation was usually too complex for humans, compared to Galactic Basic. Hence why most names were shortened to nicknames.

“Master Tapal.”

“Queen Vei.”

The new Queen appeared to keep a colourful consort. Among Captain Marsios, Akachia, and the other senators were many Jaro had yet to meet. Including a Fylari.

“My apologies, we have not been acquainted?”

“J- Master Tapal.” Akachia began, “This is Ambassador Turoo of the Fylar System.”

Jaro had to contain himself; as she spoke, she had purposefully gestured with her hands, drawing attention to them. He’d noticed what was intended to be noticed. A double ring. It was Lasat culture that one represented engagement, and two, was marriage. The Fylari standing at her side had a pair to match.

This day had been long coming. It was almost ten years since they had split. But Lasats as a species tended to find a mate for life. This information hurt no less. Of course in the Queens presence, he could say nothing. Akachia could say nothing. And Jaro found himself reverting back to his complete formalities, a distant coldness, calming himself through the force; as he would talking to Master Yoda, or at the council meetings on Coruscant.

“I understand you bring news from the Core.” The Queen pressed, saving Jaro from his thoughts.

“Yes, your Majesty. Of urgent nature.”

“If it was ‘urgent,’” she drawled, “I would already be in possession of said news, via hologram.”

“Perhaps ‘confidential’ would be a better choice of word.”

“Perhaps.”

“The Republic-” Jaro began.

“The Republic.” She scoffed. “I do hope you have not traveled so far to burden us with but more pressure. It is imperative that Lasan remain neutral. You know as well as I the terms of our arrangement, Tapal.” Her judgmental eyes scanned over his Jedi robes, then examined his aged expression. “Or perhaps you have forgotten. It has been a _great many_ years.”

“With all respect, it’s been only four.”

Jaro glanced at Akachia. Internally he winced, wishing he had not used _‘only’_ so lightly.

“Since your personal presence, yes. Since this informal alliance, it is longer still. But distract me from the news no more!” She forced a smile. “Escort me to the Gardens? We shall discuss matters absent prying purple ears.”

***

Eyes darting about the place frantically, Cal searched the crowds. Everyone towered over him. Even bouncing up and down, and standing on his tip toes did not help. “Where’s Master Tapal? He said he would come with us? It’s about to start!” Cal sighed in frustration. As he turned toward the Clone, his voice grew small. “…And I can’t see.”

Jam scratched at his neck. “I don’t know, kid.”

Of course, Jam did know. But he hated to see Cal disappointed by long winded negative answers.

Political matters were keeping Jaro preoccupied. He’d keep his word and show up, Jaro always did. Probably wouldn’t be until later though.

“Here,” Jam removed his helmet, shoving it into Cal’s hands, “You wanna hold this? Then you can sit and watch from my shoulders. Best view on Lasan, ha.”

Immediately Cal perked up, scrambled onto Jam’s back to be lifted up high.

Cal had grown fond of Jam’s company, in a way a younger sibling would look up to their elder. The clone trooper was stationed primarily aboard Jaro’s ship and like Cal, had not seen much of the war’s atrocities yet. As a result Jam was more carefree than his brothers, a little clumsy at times, but the playful type; such qualities made him likeable and endearing to practically everyone, even if they could not explain exactly why.

From his perch, Cal saw it all.

The building was in the bustling centre of Lasan’s Capital. It was a vast, open topped temple. In the center was a courtyard resembling the many in the Palace grounds; built with the same materials and framed by ornate pillars. All that gathered were dressed elegantly and seemed to share Cal’s excited energy.

Regal music filled the air as the Captain of the High Honor Guard, Iva Marsios, brought with her two Lasat to the center of the courtyard. With a wave of her arm, she formally announced the beginning of the duels. Every year on the first week of Lasan’s dust season, these trials would take place and last long into the evening.

The crowd roared with approval and support for the young cadets. 

Cal gasped in fascination; it was strange and new, thrilling, as everything on this Planet was to him. But this was unlike anything he’d ever witnessed. He noticed that some of the moves were similar to the way Jaro fought with his lightsaber. Cal’s small palm fell to where he still carried both Jaro’s and his own lightsaber, and his eyes grew wide with awe as he watched avidly, inspired.

One of the first duels was won by a Lasat named Zeurro Tiyral. He continued to surprise. Despite being the youngest cadet participating, Zeurro defeated opponent after opponent with ease and Captain Marsios was quick to grant him a place in the final.

After a while Cal and Jam caught onto the rules. It seemed that any cadet who won, fought honorably, or stood their ground well enough to win the favour of the crowd, would be granted a place in the Honor Guard; the Lasat’s military force. They’d also receive their own Bo-rifle, a weapon sacred to the Lasat and gifted only to those worthy enough to wield it. Some who showed exceptional talents were put aside to be trained further, in order to join the High Honor Guard; those who not only served Lasan, but specifically the Royals.

The final duel arrived faster than anticipated. It was unheard of for the trials to peak so early. The sky was darkening, but the suns had not set and moons had not risen… Yet, another cadet, by the name of Garazeb Orrelios, had annihilated all his opponents in similar fashion to Zeurro. There was no one left to compete, except for this remarkable pair to face each other.

Instead of them using training staffs as the others had, Captain Marsios handed each a Bo-rifle. Shocked, hushed whispers weaved through the crowds.

Zeurro and Garazeb proudly took center stage. Bold music once again filled the air as they each gave a bow of respect. A deathly silence gripped the city; the two young Lasat had truly captured Lasan’s gaze…

Right as the pair lunged at each other, Jaro along with Commander Quasar entered on the left side of the Temple. Still, no one stirred. Tension consumed all, and everyone remained fixated on the duel at hand.

With his bo-rifle ignited in staff configuration, Garazeb lunged forward. A fierce attack. Zeurro was smaller in size, able to move more swiftly; he ducked avoiding being hit, twisted, and struck at the back of his opponents legs. Before Garazeb had the time to recover, to strike again, Zeurro was performing the same move in reverse, practically running circles around him.

They were well matched, and both struggled to get an upper hand. The duel and the accompanied clanging of bo-rifles dragged out until nightfall. The tension did not once lapse, and Garazeb felt everything beginning to take its toll. His fur was ridden with sweat, and he grew exhausted. But neither would give up. Not so close to the end.

Every single move Garazeb attempted; to block, to press forward, even ones Jaro and Captain Marsios did not anticipate, were all cut off by Zeurro. And by this time, most watching had come to the same conclusion. Zeurro was, undoubtedly, blessed by the Ashla, the Force.

At that moment, the first of Lasan’s moons peaked over the walls edge and lit up the temple. As it continued to rise, to bathe the duel in its celestial white glow, the crowd began to chant for the final move, the final decision to be made and the winner to be crowned.

Garazeb’s strength was unmatched, and more than enough to topple Zeurro. This was his advantage, he knew, and he played to it. Zeurro rolled away, dodging another blow, but as he jumped back to his feet he was met again and again by Garazeb’s bo-rifle until Zeurro was no longer strong enough to block and his weapon was flung from his hands. With a harsh clatter it landed on the opposite side of the courtyard. The duel ended as abruptly as it had began.

Captain Marsios strode onto the courtyard, lifted the victors hand high. Everyone witnessing burst into roaring applause. “Garazeb Orrelios!” She announced, “Of the _High_ Honor Guard!”

His eyes jolted wide open, breathing visibly quickening. _“Karabast?! Karabast-”_ A string of Lasat curses fell from his open mouth _._ Thankfully, the celebrations were too loud for anyone to hear the profanities.

This was the first time in a few centuries, at the least, that anyone had catapulted straight from a cadet to such a coveted position.

“Captain? I don’t understand?”

“Yes you do,” She said, awarding him a medal of shimmering gold, “Never in all my seasons as Captain have I seen that sort of talent. Going into this, I was certain Zeurro would win. But _you_ bested _him_ , a force sensitive. I don’t need anyone to prove themselves more than that, Zeb.”

Words escaped him. At least everything seemed to make a little more sense, as overwhelming as it was.

Zeb’s months and months of hard work had payed off; he stood here with the city at his feet… A winner… _The_ winner. He’d always had faith in himself, his skill, his Grandmother had raised him so. But this was something he had been completely unprepared for, and still, he had prevailed against the odds. It was impossible for Zeb to comprehend all of it in this moment.

“You know of Master Tapal?” She asked.

“Uhh, Y- Yes.” He stuttered, “Only by name.”

Captain Marsios smiled, nodded her head to her left. Zeb followed her gaze. There, acknowledging his win, was Master Tapal and his company from the Core Worlds. Along with the rest of the city, they clapped for him. This was more than Zeb had ever wished for.

“You’ll do well, Orrelios. Welcome to the Guard.”


End file.
